"Don't ignore the past, but deal with it, on your own pace. Once you deal with it, you are free of it; and you are free to embrace your life and be a happy loving person because if you don't, the past will come back to haunt and keep coming back to haunt you". – Boris Kodjoe

2 years after the Manhattan Incident and S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers were doing fine. Tony and Bruce lived at Stark Tower, doing science stuff. Steve was in Brooklyn in his old neighbourhood. Thor spent half his time in Asgard and the other half on Earth. Clint and Natasha spent half their time on the Helicarrier and the other half in a high security apartment in New York City. Loki had answered for his crimes and was imprisoned on Asgard. Everything was fine.

Until now.

Natasha woke up slowly. Her head was pounding. She was in a dark room. She vaguely remembered being grabbed in the building where she was undercover.

"We know you're awake, Natasha," said a male voice. She saw three men standing in front of her. She realised that her wrists were tied to the arms of the chair that she was sitting in and that her ankles were tied to the chair legs.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice shaking a little. She could sense that these men were dangerous.

"He hasn't told you?"
"Who hasn't told me what?" However, she had a feeling she knew who he meant.

"Clint," replied the man. "He hasn't told you about his childhood, has he?" Natasha shook her head.

"Who are you?" she repeated. "Please…Just tell me who you are,"
"Who are we?" asked the man. He glanced at the other two men then back at her. He moved closer to her and she automatically pressed her back against the chair.

"Well, let's just say that Clint's past has caught up with him,"

Clint was worried. Natasha hadn't contacted base for three hours. She had to be in trouble.

"She'll be fine," Agent Hill kept saying to him. Since Natasha wasn't here, Maria was the only other female agent who could keep him calm. "She'll be fine, Clint, don't worry," He looked at her with an are-you-seriously-telling-me-this look. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Clint, if she's gotten into any trouble – if – then she'll be able to get out of it. You know she will," Clint nodded.

"If you say so," he replied, but he still wasn't convinced.

That night, Clint's bad feeling got worse. He couldn't sleep. Partly because he was worried about Natasha and partly because of something else, except he didn't know what. When he did sleep, he had nightmares. Nightmares of a little boy being chased by his father.

"Come on out, Clint!" said Harold Barton. "You can't hide from me,"

Clint stayed crouched in his hiding place up in the attic.

"Come on, Clinton. Come out, come out, wherever you are!" His father climbed the stairs to the first floor landing. They went in and out of the rooms, looking for Clint.

Clint froze as his father climbed the stairs up to the attic and quietly scurried behind a pile of boxes, silently breathing as he did so.

"I know you're up here, Clint," said Harold. "Come on out,"

Clint stayed where he was, his eyes closed and hoping his father didn't find him. It didn't work.

"Hello, Clint," said Harold. Clint looked up at him, frightened, and quickly scurried back down to the landing.

"Where do you think you're going, Clint?" asked his father. Clint ran into his room and shut the door, but he wasn't quick enough. His father burst into the room, grabbed him by the shirt collar.

"Leave me alone!" Clint cried. "Please…leave me alone!"

"You can't tell me what to do," said Harold.

"You heard Clint," came a voice from the doorway. "Leave him alone,"
"Barney…" said Clint. "Don't…"

"Clint, I'm not letting him hurt you,"
"Fine," said Harold. "Stay here, then. I'll make you watch your little brother being beaten up,"
"If you hurt Clint, I'm hurting you,"

"Go on, then," said Harold, smirking. "Hurt me,"

Clint woke up with a start. Memories again. They always had to come at the most inconvenient times. Or did they? He turned the lamp on, sat up and thought about it. He had a bad feeling about Natasha's abduction…he was sure that it was an abduction. It was the only reason why she hadn't contacted base. The dream – no, nightmare – had him wondering whether his father had come back to life. He sincerely hoped not. Even as an adult, Clint knew that he wouldn't be able to cope being around his father. He reached over, grabbed his phone, dialled a number and waited.

"Clint?"

"Maria," They had such a mother-son relationship that he often called her by her first name.

"What's wrong?"

Clint told her about his suspicions.

"Ok," she replied. "Come in. We'll talk about it with Director Fury,"

"Alright," He hung up.

A few minutes later, he was dressed and coming onto the Helicarrier.

"Barton,"

"Director Fury,"

"Agent Hill told me about your suspicions," said Fury. "You really think that your father has come back from the dead and has kidnapped your best friend?"

"I know it sounds crazy," said Clint. "But yes, that's what I think,"

His phone rang again. He looked at the number. Natasha.

"Tasha?"

"Hello, Clint,"

He froze. He knew that voice all too well.

"What are you doing there?" asked Clint, trying to keep the fear out his voice.

"Looking for you, of course,"

"You could've just come and found me," said Clint.

"We both know that you wouldn't have come with me, Clint,"

"I would've come to protect Natasha,"

"Oh, please," his father scoffed. "You can't protect anyone, Clint. That's not what you do,"

"Listen, Dad!" exclaimed Clint, starting to get annoyed. Fury and Maria looked at each other. It was serious if Clint was getting this sarcastic. "I don't care what you think of me! The only thing I'm concerned about right now is Natasha! If you hurt her in any way, I will kill you! Understand? I will kill you! And I'll make sure you're actually dead this time!"

"Good luck with that," said Harold Barton. Clint ignored him.

"I'm coming to get her," said Clint. "I don't care what you say,"

"And who's going to help you?" asked Harold.

"You know exactly who," replied Clint. "I don't care if you say he's not, because he is! Now, I'm coming for Natasha. If you hurt her, in any way, you are dead! Understand?"

"Perfectly,"

"Good," Clint disconnected and turned to his bosses. "If you're going to stop me, don't bother,"

"We weren't going to," replied Fury. "You need to get your best friend back,"

"Who are you going to for help?" asked Maria.

"FBI Agent Barney Barton," answered Clint. "My brother,"